War. How now faire Lords: what fare? what newes abroad?
[♦] Rich. Ah Warwike? should we report the balefull
Newes, and at each words deliuerance stab poinyardes
65 In our flesh till all were told, the words would adde
More anguish then the wounds.
Ah valiant Lord the Duke of Yorke is slaine.
Edw. Ah Warwike Warwike, that Plantagenet,
[♦] Which held thee deere: I, euen as his soules redemption,
[70] Is by the sterne L. Clifford, done to death.
[♦] War. Ten daies a go I drownd those newes in teares.